The Royal Couple: A Christian Romance (Royals Book 1) Read online

  THE ROYAL COUPLE

  Nicole Taylor

  The Royal Couple

  Copyright © 2015 by Nicole Taylor

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be produced or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other – except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, places, locales or to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Barbara Paloma Dickson reclined on the white vinyl seat aboard the Hawker jet headed from New York to Paris. She sipped lemon-flavored iced water and drew her tablet closer as she read another chapter of the Bible.

  Over the course of the last few weeks – with the preliminary work for the movie she was producing and her charity work for her Changing Lives Foundation – she had found herself rushing through prayers and devotions and neglecting her daily Bible reading. As a result, she felt spiritually underfed. Barbara was well aware that she had become a victim of busyness and how much she needed to remind herself of what was truly important. She could only do that if she spent time being replenished, refreshed and strengthened with God’s Word.

  The flight attendant appeared and for the second time in less than an hour asked if Barbara was comfortable and whether she wanted anything. Barbara smiled and assured her that she was just fine.

  After nine years as a movie star she was used to being treated like a royal. Not only was the world of luxury at her fingertips but the media seemed fascinated by everything she did. If her photo was snapped by the paparazzi now, even dressed as casually as she was in dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt, her outfit would become ‘fashion news’.

  There was a time that being in the spotlight had been the main focus of her existence. Even though she often had been irritated by the constant intrusion of the press into her personal life, she had still reveled in the excitement of her image gracing the covers of magazines and webzines. She had loved being feted by the media and getting respect and adoration wherever she went.

  All of that changed the day she gave her life to Christ two years earlier. Suddenly, her perspective on stardom had altered. She no longer believed she deserved glory and praise. She no longer derived her feelings of self-worth from her net-worth or how many followers she had on Twitter or Instagram or how many awards she collected. She realized her value began and ended with the one great truth: she was a child of God.

  With this change in perspective had come corresponding changes in her career path. While she was still a movie star, retaining that status was no longer her driving force. She was now motivated by a stronger force – the desire to glorify God with her choices. Thus for the past two years she had not starred in any secular movies.

  In fact, over the course of the last year alone, she had turned down at least half a dozen movie offers with big name directors. She refused to be involved in projects with objectionable content. Profanity, partial nudity, gratuitous violence and sex scenes were at the top of her list.

  Inevitably, her choices had made her unpopular in some circles. There were those who considered that she had gone overboard, that she was being overly fanatical. One such dissenting voice had been her own agent, Sandy Brown. Sandy was a real mover and shaker who represented some of Hollywood’s biggest stars. He had been less than happy that Barbara was turning down big budget movies, likely to gross substantial box office receipts, in favor of producing and starring in Christian movies, usually with smaller budgets.

  He had reminded her, more than once, that her decision to star in low budget films meant an enormous reduction in the $12 million per movie she easily commanded. Of course, since he was paid a percentage of her earnings, this meant less money for him. Eventually, he had actually gone so far as to question her judgment and berate her choices. That was when she had given him his walking papers.

  She shook her head, crossed her ankles and stared, unseeing, at the expensive platform heels on her feet. She accepted that not everyone shared her views or perspectives on life. The trouble came when they expected her to conform to theirs. Apparently, being a Christian was okay as long as one didn’t ruffle any feathers. The thing that might surprise them was how fully prepared she was to ruffle a lot of those uninformed feathers in order to share God’s truth.

  Many failed to understand that, for her, Christianity wasn’t a religion – it was a relationship – a relationship with Christ. She saw everything now in view of that relationship. She had made Him the captain of her ship and that meant dying to self, whatever that entailed. The bright lights of fame and stardom were nothing compared to the peace and joy Christ brought to her life. She would give up anything for Him.

  Barbara closed her tablet and used the buttons on her seat to change the channel on the TV to the Financial News as she emptied her glass. On the next appearance of the flight attendant she ordered a cappuccino and allowed her thoughts to drift to the reason for her trip.

  Her best friend, Prudence Konstantinos née Brennan, was having a birthday dinner party the next day in Paris where she resided with her Greek husband, Stavros, a sculptor. Prudence was a British heiress and a talented sketch artist who moved in an artistic clique that called themselves Les Magnifiques.

  The film director, Jacques Annuad, had directed Barbara in The Lady, the movie that had launched her stratospheric rise to stardom. Immediately after filming, he had invited her and a few select members of the cast to spend time with him and his friends on the French Riviera. It turned out that his friends were members of Les Magnifiques. That was how she had met Prudence.

  Though he was not an artist in the conventional sense, Jacques was embraced by Les Magnifiques for two reasons. First was his romantic liaison and subsequent marriage to French painter Annabelle Lambert, one of Les Magnifiques’ most prominent stars (they had divorced, just ten months after their wedding). Second, the indie films he was famous for were considered to be serious art cinema and not of the mainstream Hollywood-type.

  For a teenage girl fr
om Brooklyn, New York, the avant-garde, bohemian group was a bit of a culture shock – at first. As she found herself more immersed in their culture, Barbara became less and less uncomfortable with the lifestyle of those around her. She and Prudence hit it off instantly and became almost inseparable. Barbara found Prudence Brennan fascinating. Yes, she was artistic and fanciful but she also had poise, grace and self-possession. In essence, she had a level of refinement unmatched by any other member of the set. Barbara was not surprised to soon discover that she was in fact an aristocrat.

  Prudence’s mother, Kate Foster Brennan, was the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Westminster, whom Barbara later learned were rated among the wealthiest British citizens. Her father, Patrick Brennan, was a direct descendant of the last Irish Chieftain. He owned the controlling stake in Tosto, Britain’s premiere grocery store chain, as well as Brennan, one of the largest food processors in Britain.

  Even after Barbara left France and returned to Hollywood she and Prudence still remained in touch, talking to each other on the phone several times a week. That connection was still very much alive. Even though, as a Christian, Barbara now found it difficult to relate to her friend’s secular worldview on a number of issues, she loved her and prayed for her salvation every day.

  A smile played around Barbara’s lips as she recalled the conversation she had with Prudence a few weeks ago. Barbara had called to accept the invitation to the party and then out of curiosity had asked Prudence who else would be attending.

  “Only twenty of my closest and dearest friends, Barbie Dahling! I’m so thrilled that you will be attending.” The excitement in her voice was hard to miss. “Don’t worry about making any flight arrangements I’m going to send a private jet to pick you up.”

  “Prunes, you don’t need to do that,” Barbara had protested. “I can travel commercial.”

  Though Barbara could afford to hire a private jet, and had done so occasionally, she often traveled commercially in First or Business Class. While she had been able to accumulate notable wealth over the years, she had also kept and increased that wealth because of wise investments and prudent money management.

  Prudence intended to win this argument. “No, I insist. You’re my guest. In fact, why don’t you come over Friday night and spend the entire weekend with Stavros and me? We don’t talk enough. I miss our chats.”

  Barbara finally agreed to spend the weekend on the condition that Prudence would attend church with her on Sunday.

  The pilot’s monotonous voice, announcing that they would be landing at Le Bourget Airport in a matter of minutes, brought Barbara out of her reverie. She fastened her seat belt and glanced out of the window into the darkening evening sky as the flight attendant reappeared to ensure that she was safely prepared for the landing.

  After the jet had landed at Le Bourget, Barbara was ushered through Immigration and Customs with minimal fanfare and into a waiting limousine. She enjoyed the lively view of Paris as she was driven to Prudence’s residence in the Champs-Élysées. Barbara had always found Paris to be one of the most cosmopolitan, fashionable, beautiful and exciting cities in the world.

  When the chauffeur took the exit towards Rouen she recalled when she had lived in an apartment in Seine-Saint-Denis during her brief marriage to Jacques Annuad, almost nine years earlier. The apartment had been lovely – the marriage not so much.

  Barbara had never been to the home of Prudence and Stavros. When the limousine stopped in front of the magnificent multi-story townhouse in Saint Augustine, she had to assume she had reached her destination.

  The car door was opened, not by the chauffeur as Barbara was expecting, but by the lady of the house herself.

  “Barbie!” Prudence squealed as she helped her out of the limo and embraced her warmly.

  Barbara returned the hug with equal fervor. She felt a surge of joy at seeing her friend. Despite their differences she loved her dearly and had missed her.

  When they drew apart, Barbara held Prudence at arm’s length and surveyed her from head to toe. With her pale complexion, bright red hair and enchanting green eyes, Prudence had always reminded Barbara of a Dante Gabriel Rosseti painting.

  Barbara smiled and nodded appreciatively at Prudence. “You look good, Prunes. Married life agrees with you. I think you’ve even put on a little weight.”

  Prudence frowned at her beautiful American friend, whose slim, yet curvaceous, figure looked exactly as it had when they had met almost ten years earlier. “Are you saying that I’m fat, Barbara?” she pouted, hand on one hip.

  Barbara laughed as she looked Prudence over with an incredulous eye. “Fat? Prunes, that’s hilarious! What are you wearing now a size two?”

  Prudence had been a size zero when Barbara first met her. As far as she was concerned the extra pounds actually did Prudence good. She was filling out the green, floral, belted dress she wore in all the right places.

  “Actually it’s a size two top and a size four bottom these days. Stavros is to blame, Barbie. He’s always cooking some decadent meal. I swear he wants to make me as fat as his mother.”

  She whispered the last sentence just in case Stavros was within earshot.

  It was a good thing too because just then he joined them and enveloped Barbara in a bear hug. “Barbara, kalós írthes!” he said, meaning welcome in Greek. “Our home is yours. We’re so happy to have you.”

  Barbara returned the smile. “Thank you Stavros. I’m happy to be here.”

  Well over a decade older than Prudence at age 46, Stavros Konstantinos was a handsome man with an olive complexion, longish dark brown hair and warm hazel eyes. He and Prudence had met six years earlier. It had been love at first sight for her. It had taken him a little longer. He had been 40 years old at the time and Prudence had been 24. Unlike many men, he was not partial to dating women so much younger than himself. He found most of them immature and superficial. He was especially wary of pretty young heiresses with too much money and too much time on their hands.

  Prudence Brennan, though, was persistent. She seemed to turn up everywhere. She visited his gallery often, purchased his sculptures, and was present at his showings. Eventually, she wore him down and he agreed to accompany her to the ballet. He spent the whole evening covertly observing her and by the time they had shared dinner that evening at a nearby restaurant he was smitten. Who knew that under such a flighty façade was such a dynamite girl? He often looked back and wondered why he had ever resisted her at all.

  Inside the foyer, Prudence turned to Barbara. “I hope you’re hungry because we’re going to have dinner as soon as you’ve settled.”

  Barbara realized that she did feel quite hungry. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Brilliant. Marie is going to show you to your room.”

  As if on cue, the housekeeper appeared. She was a stout, dark haired woman with a round face and pleasant smile. “This way please, mademoiselle,” she said.

  In the bedroom Marie unpacked Barbara’s things and put them away while Barbara took a shower. When she emerged from the bathroom she felt refreshed enough to observe the surroundings she had barely glanced at on arrival.

  Her gaze was drawn to a large drawing of a familiar looking couple. It was sensual and compelling and Barbara stared at it for a long time. The woman was stunning. She had her eyes closed and her full lips were turned up slightly at the corners as though she were having a wonderful time. Her thick, dark tresses appeared windswept and one hand was held up above her head and bent at the elbow, seemingly combing through her hair. The man was also very good looking. He was watching the woman with such love in his eyes that the beauty of it caused Barbara to be filled with an inexplicable yearning.

  She recognized Prudence’s signature style and could see that the drawing was one of hers. This was confirmed when she glanced in its right hand corner and saw Prudence’s familiar, delicate signature. She made a mental note to ask her about the sketch as she dressed simply in a light turquoise swea
ter shirt and white slacks. She combed out her long hair, added a coat of mascara to her naturally long eyelashes and applied lip gloss to her lips.

  Although it was not obvious, Barbara was the product of mixed heritage. Her blonde, blue-eyed mother, Erin, had Scandinavian roots. Her bi-racial father, Ronald, had an Afro-Caribbean father and a Jewish-American mother.

  At dinner, Barbara asked if she could first bless the meal. Neither Prudence nor Stavros objected. She considered this to be a hopeful sign. The meal, which she learned that Stavros had prepared in her honor, was fabulous.

  They dined on Fasolatha, a classic white bean soup, followed by a Greek salad. The main course was Psari Plaki (Greek-style baked fish) served with potato wedges and dessert was Baklava, a pastry layered with cinnamon spiced nut filling and bathed in sweet syrup.

  Barbara took the last bite of her dessert, leaned back in her chair and exhaled with a contented sigh. “What a meal, Stavros. That was truly heavenly.”

  Stavros chuckled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it Barbaroula.”

  Barbara raised a brow at this moniker.

  Prudence threw her an amused look. “Don’t worry he calls me Pruditsa. It’s a Greek thing, isn’t it, Dahling?” She turned to Stavros for confirmation.

  “It is a term of endearment. What you Americans call an ‘expression of affection’, I believe?”

  “That’s very sweet, Stavros, and I’m honored that you view me with affection because I certainly have polla affection for the two of you.”

  It was Prudence’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “Polla, huh? Somebody’s been brushing up on her Greek.”

  Barbara lifted her elbows from the table to allow Marie to remove her bowl. “That’s one of the handful of Greek words I know.”

  Prudence laughed. “It’s good to know that you view us with lots of affection. Does that mean that it’s not going take another ten months to get a visit from you?”

  “Pruditsa, come on, she is a movie star,” Stavros interjected. “She is very busy. Right Barbaroula?”